Page 69 of Goalie and the Girl Next Door
She lifts an eyebrow.
I sigh. Loudly. “Fine. It’s the bachelor auction tonight.”
Angel says nothing. She just crosses her arms and leans on the wheelbarrow with a grunt.
“Look, Igetit. I know the town needs money. I’m not some cold-hearted finance robot who doesn’t understand fundraising. But the whole thing feels like a disaster waiting to happen. Women throwing money at eligible bachelors in a tiny town where everyone knows everyone? That’s not fundraising, that’s social dynamite.”
Another “hmmm” from her.
“And okay,yes, maybe I took it personally. Clément told me—or at least he implied—that he wasn’t doing it. And then I find out, in the middle of Maple Fest, and from someone else, when I’ve just let my guard down for maybe five minutes around him? Come on.”
Angel says nothing, her neutral expression giving nothing away.
“And maybe I would’ve understood why he agreed. Maybe. If he had actually told me. But no, he had to stand there looking surprised like a kid who forgot his own birthday, and then look wounded when I walked away.”
I take a breath.
“I know what you’re going to say. You and Scotty think he’s the best thing since sourdough starter. And I’m not saying he’s not.He’s kind, and funny, and absurdly good with goats, and apparently loved his mother more than anyone I’ve ever met loves anything. But…”
I swallow. This part is hard to say out loud.
“But I’ve been on high alert since the day I met him. Because am I seriously going to go that route again? A hockey player? On top of it, a French hockey player with dimples and opinions about butter? That’s textbook heartache waiting to happen. And I’ve alreadydoneheartache, thank you very much.”
“I see.”
That’s all she says.
No lecture. No sermon in the hay. Just that maddeningly calm “I see.”
I huff, crossing my arms even though they’re covered in chicken-coop grime. “What does that mean?”
She shrugs. “Means you’ve thought about him a lot.”
“I havenot,” I lie.
She levels me with a look. “Marcy.”
I groan, tossing my gloves into the wheelbarrow. “Fine. Maybe he didn’t tell me because he didn’t know how. Or maybe he thought I’d judge him. Or maybe it all happened so fast he didn’t get a chance and then Jamie shot his mouth off and…” I trail off, jaw clenched. “Ugh.”
Angel watches me quietly.
“Okay. Let’s say Idosee him again. Maybe I just—ask. Like a normal person. ‘Hey, why didn’t you tell me about the auction?’ That’s not crazy, right?”
Angel tilts her head. “You just ranted for fifteen minutes, accused an entire sport of being emotionally bankrupt, and now you only want to ask him a question?”
“Don’t throw logic around, please,” I mutter.
Angel chuckles, then turns back to the coop. “There’s more if you want, but it will show itself in time.”
I squint at her. “Wait. Weren’tyougoing to tell me something? You’re the one who dragged me out here.”
She glances over her shoulder, a smile tugging at one side of her mouth. “Turns out, I don’t need to say much.” And with that, she gets back to work, content in the mess, while I’m left standing there—dusty, emotionally wrung out, and maybe ready to talk to Clément Rivière.
“Okay, I’ll talk to him.” I sigh and start gathering my emotional courage. This needs to be done. I can’t leave things this way. I’ve been hiding out in the cabin for so long, I’m craving a cupcake. “Thanks for the talk, Angel.”
She smiles. “Anytime. Oh yeah, and I forgot to tell you I got you a ticket for the bachelor auction. You’re coming with Scotty and me. Look sharp.”
CHAPTER 24
